


Christmas at the Bunker

by magicgirlsara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Holiday, M/M, Mistletoe, christmas sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicgirlsara/pseuds/magicgirlsara
Summary: Castiel can't wait until morning to open his presents, but will he get an early one from someone special?





	

All night long he glanced at Dean to see if he was awake. Unfortunately, for a guy who was hunted by angels during the apocalypse, he slept pretty soundly, even on the uncomfortable couch. Sam was sleeping in the recliner, snoring periodically, and Charlie was curled up on the floor under a blanket, phone still in her hand.

Eventually Cas got up and quietly walked over to the giant tree they had bought a few days ago. The thing was huge. The four of them argued for an hour before they agreed on the perfect one. There were paper ornaments that Charlie taught them all how to make and multicolored lights strewn lazily across it. There was a picture of Cas on top of it, a joke from Dean. Underneath were a few haphazardly wrapped gifts. Some were wrapped in newspaper, others were in the plastic bags they were bought in, a few were in tote bags, one with a snow covered cottage with lights on it. Cas’ gifts were stacked neatly; brown craft paper and twine tags with scribbled names clearly visible.

He adjusted one that was crooked and sat down next to the pile. He picked up one of the newspaper wrapped gifts with his name on it and shook it. No dice. He was about to look at the tag on the tote bag with the cottage, when he heard a noise behind him.

“Uh oh, Santa’s not comin’ to your house tonight,” Dean teased quietly.

“Oh, I… I was just wondering who it was for,” it wasn’t so much a lie as it was a half-truth. Dean didn’t need to know that he was going to peek inside.

“Hah, sure. Like I’d believe that,” Dean pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in a smug gesture. He sat on the floor next to Cas and stretched his arms out, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced, “What were you hopin for?”

Cas thought on it for a minute, staring at his own image on the tree. The lights bounced off his face, he looked pensive and dreamy. Without looking at Dean he responded firmly, “Clothes.”

“Clothes? That’s it?”

“Yes, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to wear different clothes everyday like you and Sam do.”

Dean laughed, “It ain’t that special, Cas.”

“It seems… interesting. Charlie told me that her clothes reflect her mood that day. That every day she puts something on that ‘sets the tone for the day’.”

“I kinda just put whatever seems practical on. Layers, jacket, jeans, boots. Nothin special, man.”

“I think I’d like a sweater. A warm one,” Cas paused, “maybe a Christmas one.”

“You want an ugly sweater?”

“Not an ugly one. Just a Christmas one.”

“Yeah, an ugly one.”

“Christmas sweaters aren’t ugly, Dean.”

Dean scoffed, “Whatever you say, buddy,” he got up and walked towards the kitchen, stopping under the doorway. He crossed his arms and leaned on it, smiling at Cas.

“What?” Cas looked confused.

“Nothin’,” Dean kept that knowing smile on his face.

Cas got up, walked over to him and leaned on the other side of the doorway facing Dean, “I’d be happy with anything you all got me.”

“Well, probably not anything,” Dean corrected.

“No, really, anything. I’ve never received a Christmas gift. I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

Dean’s smile faded a bit, and he pushed off the doorframe. It creaked a little and Dean quickly looked toward Sam and Charlie, making sure they didn’t wake up. He took a step toward Cas.

“Well, that kind of puts a lot of pressure on me and my gift, now,” he began.

Cas lightly pushed off his side of the doorframe, his body was closer to Dean’s now, “I’m sure your gift is more than satisfactory, Dean.”

Dean was leaning closer to Cas, their feet were parallel to each other, their lower bodies close, their upper bodies were becoming closer by the second.

“If it’s not, can you pretend you like it?” Dean whispered at Cas.

Cas smiled, turned his head to the side, and jutted his chin out a bit, “Sure, if that’ll make you happy, I can do that for you.”

Dean laughed quietly and looked down at their feet. He leaned a little more into Cas, his forehead grazed Cas’ stubbly chin. He slowly slid his head up, enjoying the feel of the scraping. Their cheeks were touching, his eyes were closed, and he was wishing for more.

“Dean…” Cas croaked out.

“Yeah?” the response from Dean was no more than a whisper.

He didn’t respond, though. He slid his cheek backward and let his lips graze Dean’s. His eyes flicked upward, “Mistletoe.” When he spoke his lips rubbed against Dean’s.

Dean looked up for just a second, and took the signal. He pressed his lips gently to Cas’, closed his eyes, and kissed him.

Cas slid his hand onto Dean’s waist and gripped him firmly. He steadied him when he otherwise felt like he was falling. Dean’s mouthed opened slightly and Cas’ tongue slid in.

“Hah! I knew it!” Charlie had woken up and was giggling at them from the couch.

Dean pulled away roughly and shook his head toward the floor, “Dammit Charlie, what the hell?!”

“Sorry, but how often do you get to see your otp make out in person?” she looked guilty but vindicated.

“Get off my couch,” Dean walked over to where she was as she jumped up and threw himself down, arms crossed, glaring in her direction.

“Fine, grumpy cat, I’m going to bed. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she raised her eyebrows and her smile was wider than he’d ever seen. She turned on her heel and skipped off down the hallway.

Cas went to sit on the floor next to the couch, but Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him towards him. He pushed himself up against the back of the couch and pulled Cas in to face him.

Neither of them said a word as they both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When they woke up in the morning, Sam had made coffee and Charlie was poking them chanting “Presents! Presents!” over and over.

When Cas opened his tote bag, he found a dark blue knit sweater with silver Christmas ornaments knit into it. The tag read, “To: Cas From: Dean”.

They shared a knowing look. Genuine smiles crinkled the corners of their eyes.


End file.
